


Namasté

by Elliott_Fletcher



Series: Observations of Intimacy [14]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Affection, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliott_Fletcher/pseuds/Elliott_Fletcher
Summary: [My Soul honours your Soul. I honour the place in you where the entire universe resides.]
It's a thrill at his nape when he realizes that this love could never be captured in a story or a photograph, that what they have is something more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to tag this 'Dorks in Love' but then it gave me the option 'Volleyball Dorks in Love' and that's what's called getting specific.

He knows where the shelf is and where the desk is and where Suga is, but his bedroom is a foreign place. The walls shimmer dark blue, brighter than the muted paint he remembers, and the varnish on the wood is deeper: on the headboard above them and the back of the chair. The room is lit with yellow streaks from the lamp on his bedside, stable unlike the flicker of a candle. It flushes the ceiling sunshine, and paints the skin before him gold. Those gold hands stretch with an arch and a spine, leaning off the bed to click it off. Daichi can see his own face in the mirror, and then he cannot; the walls fall black. Suga's diaphragm fills beneath his hands when he relaxes back on the mattress, and then there are hands on his, like a big game. He rubs his fingers into the white shirt over Suga's belly - grey in the lightless night - and then Suga takes his hands and tucks them under, deep under the hem. His belly is warm, oozes warmth. The skin below his ribs flutters with every sharp breath, and Daichi swoops his hands around his hips. The bone and rounded edges fill his hands with a warm, tingling skin that crackles beneath the surface.

  
He presses up, and Suga raises with his hands. Daichi brings his mouth to his sternum and rests his nose on the ridge of bone. Each exhale ghosts under his shirt and along the goose-bumped skin of his chest. He kisses beneath the bone, one inch lower, and presses his lips deeper and deeper, desperate to convey every shred of love that swells through him. (It returns with each kiss and each parting when the air blows cold against his saliva on Suga's skin). Suga cradles Daichi's face, chin tucked to his collarbone to see him without his pupils on his waterline. His hands fall to the bulk of muscle on his underarms, and he guides him up, his pull just a ghost. Daichi's fingertips press into the dips of his ribs as he crawls over his chest, socked feet finding purchase in the tangled quilt.

  
Caught between a cursive line and a smile, Suga kisses his mouth, and then his teeth where the lips pull into a grin; the crevice between his lip and nose; along the curve of each nostril; his cheek; and then the bone rests beneath it. He slithers both arms around Daichi's ribcage and pulls him down, down. And they crash together, and every pound that makes up Daichi rests on Suga, with his chin on his collarbone and his lips on his temple. Daichi rolls them onto their sides, facing in (always facing in), and Suga makes himself as heavy as he can. He pouts when he can no longer feel the thrum of Daichi's heart in his own gut, and he burrows closer until every piece of skin is aligned and they have to tilt their heads to breathe through their noses (and when they do tilt their heads, they find they don't really need to breathe at all).


End file.
